


Blood Moon On A Fogless Night

by watanuki_sama



Series: Shards Of Quantum Glass [20]
Category: Common Law (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Semi-Being Human AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Travis is a PI because PIs are cool, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watanuki_sama/pseuds/watanuki_sama
Summary: A vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost run a private detective business. No, wait, that's the end of the story. Let's go back to the beginning.
Relationships: Travis Marks & Wes Mitchell
Series: Shards Of Quantum Glass [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/945501
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Blood Moon On A Fogless Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanete_druse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanete_druse/gifts).



> Also posted on FF.net under the penname 'EFAW' on 06/14/20.
> 
> Prompt: SUPERNATURAL

_“Every human spends a night or two on the dark side and regrets it. But what if you only exist—on the dark side?”_   
_—Josh Levison, Being Human_

\---

As soon as Travis opens the door, the blonde on the stoop rears back, nostrils flaring wide, and he snaps, “What the hell is _wrong_ with you?”—which, let’s face it, is not a fantastic first impression. Travis is about to get loudly offended when he realizes the blonde is staring over his shoulder. He turns, follows the man’s gaze, but all he sees is Paekman by the stairs.

Huh.

Travis turns back to the guy, lets his mouth fall open and breathes in deep. It’s not _quite_ a scent he gets, not exactly a taste, but something in between. (It’s hard to describe to anyone who doesn’t have this particular sense.)

Under the overwhelming stench of hand sanitizer, minty fresh toothpaste, and rain-scented shampoo, there’s a rough, musky smell, like the deadly things that run in the deepest forests.

Well, that explains it, then.

Travis grins, flashing bright, sharp fangs, and slouches against the doorway. “Werewolf, right? Yeah, Paekman’s a ghost, so he doesn’t have a scent. It’s kind of unsettling, isn’t it?” He glances over his shoulder. “No offense, man.”

Paekman idly waves. “None taken.”

He still isn’t used to it, turning around and seeing someone with no heartbeat, no blood, no pulse. Paekman’s pretty much his best friend, but it’s still _weird_.

Blondie blinks, turning his attention to Travis. Then he blinks again, nose crinkling, and asks, “What are _you?”_

That gives Travis pause, because ghosts are rare enough to be weird, but how has this guy gotten by without meeting a vampire before?

“Vampire,” Travis says, flashing his fangs again.

The blonde’s brows furrow. “Vampires don’t exist.”

“Says the werewolf at my door,” Travis scoffs. He tilts his head, considering. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.” The other man narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“No, no, I mean how long have you been a werewolf? Not long, right?” It would explain a lot, like how this guy’s never seen a vampire before, or the way he’s veering just this side of rudeness.

Blondie drops his gaze, cheeks pinking. Bullseye. He shifts, then mutters, “Two and a half months.”

“Huh.” Travis studies the blonde in the suit. How odd, a baby werewolf out and about on his own. How _interesting_.

Travis does always like to live on the edge.

He notices a piece of newspaper in the werewolf’s hand, folded neatly down the middle, and grins. “You’re here about the room, right? Come on in.” He turns away, pauses, and turns back, hand outstretched. “I’m Travis, by the way, and that’s Paekman.”

Slowly, a cool, dry hand slides into his. “Wes.”

\---

“There’re three bedrooms,” Travis explains, leading the way upstairs. Wes follows, casting uneasy glances at the spectre trailing him, which is not normally how Paekman treats potential roommates so Travis supposes Paekman is making up for that first impression too.

They crest the landing and Travis points down the hall. “That one’s the master bedroom. _My_ master bedroom. Here’s the bathroom, linen closet, first bedroom, closet with the laundry machines, second bedroom.” He pulls open the door with a grand gesture, stepping back so Wes can check it out. “My room has an en suite, so the hall bath is pretty much yours. You can have the spare bedroom, too, for an office or something if you’d like. I use the den downstairs.”

Wes purses his lips a little and pulls open the closet. Travis shifts. “We also have a finished basement with a pretty solid door, if you need a place for your, ah…monthly problem.”

Wes blinks, turns to him. “Oh. No. I…thank you, but I have…accommodations.”

Well, that’s something. Travis would hate to think what a werewolf on the full moon would do to his basement.

Wes is frowning again, looking out the window. Travis moves up beside him, gazing out at the tangled mess of the backyard, because Travis has neither the time nor the inclination for yardwork and Paekman could care less.

“What about Paekman?” Wes asks finally, running his fingers along the sill.

“Technically, Paekman haunts the whole house, but he’ll stay out of your rooms without asking. He works with me a lot, too, so he’ll be out of your hair most of the time.”

Wes makes a considering noise and turns away from the window. “There was a second bedroom, you said?”

Wes insists on going through the second bedroom, the bathroom, and pretty much the rest of the house before he says, “What are you asking for?”

Travis names a number that’s a little lower than he’d like, but honestly, Wes is the first person who hasn’t gotten squeamish about having a ghost in the house and Travis really would like to get someone in the room. If Wes wants it, Travis can take a little loss.

Wes puts his hands on his hips and frowns again (doesn’t thus guy ever _smile?_ ) looking around the kitchen, the last stop on the tour. Then he nods, more to himself than Travis, and says, “I’ll take it.”

Travis beams. “Great.”

\---

They spend the rest of the day hashing out the lease, and Wes moves in the next day. Which takes all of ten minutes, because Wes has two suitcases and a duffel bag to his name.

“Dude, have you been living out of a hotel?” Travis blurts before he can stop himself, and Wes gives him the stinkeye and snaps, “Something like that,” and slams his door shut.

Wes is quiet and private, keeps to himself, but Travis didn’t get where he is by being stupid. He locks himself in his den for an afternoon and looks up Mr. Wesley Mitchell. (Which is, as Paekman points out, something he probably should have done _before_ Wes moved in, oops.)

What he finds is a whole lotta nothing. Oh, there’s plenty about the man himself: former lawyer, ex-wife, case gone wrong, the usual down-on-your-luck type things. But nothing to explain why a baby werewolf was turned and left on his own. There’s a fairly decent pack presence in LA, someone should have noticed this guy and taken him under their wing. And yet…

Travis files his notes away and resolves to keep an eye on his new roommate.

\---

Wes, it turns out, is an awesome cook. “If I could eat, I would totally steal that,” Travis declares, peering into the pot on the stove and inhaling deeply. Oh man, it smells _amazing_ …

Wes gently shoves him away. “You have disgusting bags of blood in the fridge, go eat those.”

Sadly, Travis retrieves one of his disgusting bags of blood, mournfully watching Wes taste the whatever-it-is. “I _miss_ food,” he sighs wistfully.

Paekman, hovering over the stove, echoes the sigh. “Me too.”

Wes waves his spoon at the ghost. “You’re both ridiculous. Leave my food alone.”

\---

“How’s the new roommate?” Jonelle asks during Travis’s monthly blood restocking.

Travis pauses hand outstretched for the cooler she holds. “How the hell do you know about that?” He appreciates Jonelle, but seriously, he doesn’t go around chatting about his living situation with her. Or anyone, really, so how could she _possibly_ know that?

The medical examiner grins a smile sharp enough to rival any vampire and says, “I have my ways. So how’s it going?”

“None of your business,” Travis grumbles, snatching the cooler out of her hands. He can hear her laughing as he stomps off; if she didn’t scare him a little bit, human status notwithstanding, he would totally do something about that.

\---

Wes is actually a great roommate. He cleans with obsessive regularity, and not just his rooms but, like, _everything_ , except the den and Travis’s bedroom, which is kind of _awesome_. Travis isn’t sure the house has ever been this clean since he bought it.

Wes also seems to like yardwork. He spends a good chunk of each day in ratty jeans and an old college T-shirt, digging in the dirt, and in just a couple of weeks, the back yard actually starts to look like a yard, not an overgrown tangle.

Honestly, about the only thing Travis can complain about is Wes’s curiosity, because Wes doesn’t have a pack to teach him about this sort of thing, so he asks Travis. Usually veering this side of rude, because he simply doesn’t know any better.

“How can you go out in the sun?” Wes questions as Travis loads the fridge with his new blood bags. When Travis raises an eyebrow, Wes elaborates. “I mean, you’re a vampire. How come you don’t…” He makes a dusting motion with his fingers. “Poof?”

“Melanin,” Travis snaps, deadpan.

Wes ignores the sarcasm. “Really?”

Travis bites his lip and takes a deep breath. _Be nice to the baby werewolf. Not his fault he doesn’t know._ “No,” he says. “Not really. A lot of those myths are BS. I can handle sunlight for a certain period of time. Less, if I haven’t had any blood lately.”

“Huh,” Wes says thoughtfully, and wanders off.

Travis thumps his head against the fridge door.

\---

“Can a stake through the heart kill you?”

Travis pauses, one hand on the TV remote, and blinks at his roommate. “Um. No.” He frowns. “Why?”

Wes shrugs, wanders into the room, sipping his coffee. (God, Travis misses coffee...) “You said not all the legends and stories were true. I wondered if that one was.”

Travis raises an eyebrow. “Planning on killing me?”

“Not right this minute.” Wes gives him a faint smile to show he’s teasing, then shrugs again. “You were shot last night. I could smell the gunpowder and blood. Obviously, it didn’t do much. Just got me thinking, is all. What do you do, anyway?”

Travis mutes the TV, turning to face Wes. “I’m a private investigator. Mostly supernatural cases, for the local pack or vampire clans.”

“Huh.” Wes takes a measured sup of his coffee. “And Paekman works for you?”

“Yup. Always nice to have a partner who can walk through walls.” Travis flashes a grin at the blonde. “You could join us, seeing as how you’re between jobs at the moment. With your nose…”

Wes smiles around his mug. “I’d ask how you know that, but, PI…” (That’s not the only reason Travis knows that.) Wes finishes the last of his coffee, inching towards the door. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Travis nods, watching him go, and ponders the mystery of Wesley Mitchell.

\---

Here’s a weird thing about Wes: He never leaves. Like, ever. (That’s a big clue that he doesn’t actually have a job right now, which raises questions on how he can afford rent. But hey, the check doesn’t bounce so Travis doesn’t ask questions.)

Aside from grocery runs, Wes never leaves the house—Paekman confirms it. He never takes phone calls, or makes them for that matter. He never even mentions anyone, not even his ex.

Travis doesn’t know a ton about werewolves, but it can’t be good that Wes is all alone and isolated like this. Don’t the lone wolves go crazy or something? Packs exist for a reason.

“Do you have any friends, family?” Travis subtly probes. “Someone you could go see?”

Wes gives him a narrow-eyed squinty look. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“Um.” Okay, not as subtle as he’d hoped—and also not exactly what he was aiming for. “No, that’s not…”

“Wait until the weekend,” Wes says, turning back to the task at hand (wiping down the fridge). “I’ll be out of your hair for a few days and you can bring girls over, or whatever you’re trying to get rid of me for.”

Travis blinks. “Weekend?”

Without looking up, Wes points to the calendar on the wall. It’s one of those ones with the lunar cycle noted—always handy when dealing with the supernatural element.

This weekend is the full moon.

Right.

\---

On Friday, Wes disappears. He’s gone for three days and drags himself back exhausted and haunted by things Travis can’t even begin to understand. Travis watches him go upstairs, and he wants to say…something. But he doesn’t have the faintest idea where to start.

There’s really nothing he _could_ say.

“Hey.” Paekman hovers in the doorway, staring at the ceiling like he can see through the floor (maybe he can; Travis really isn’t certain the extent of Paekman’s abilities). “Maybe we could make him dinner or something?”

“Yeah.” Travis turns towards the kitchen. “That’s a good idea.”

He makes a mental note to call Randi later.

\---

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to worry about calling Randi. She calls him first.

“You got this morning’s paper handy?” she asks in her serious voice, which clues him in that this is not a social call. He starts searching his desk for the paper.

Paekman, who is a ghost and therefore has no qualms about eavesdropping, deposits the paper by his elbow. “Got it right here. What am I looking for?”

“Page seven. Bottom corner.”

Travis flips to the page and skims, immediately seeing the problem. He curses. Randi laughs wryly, no mirth in the sound. “Exactly.”

This is a problem.

\---

The night of the full moon, a prostitute called Carina (real name: Ashley Lorentz) was found mauled to death, three streets away from her usual corner. Jonelle, recognizing the girl’s death as a werewolf attack, promptly declared it an attack by a wild dog and immediately called the Pack.

The Pack took over, started looking into it, and found that the month before, also on the full moon, a homeless man had been mauled. That one never made the papers.

The Pack has a feral wolf on their hands, and they need Travis to find him. Or her.

“Find him?” Travis asks. “It’s not one of yours gone rogue?”

Randi sighs. “We checked. All our wolves are accounted for. Whoever this is, they’re outside the Pack.”

Travis’s stomach twists. “I’ll look into it,” he promises, and hangs up without another word.

A wolf outside the Pack. Maybe a new wolf, young and out of control, with no Pack to guide him and keep an eye on him.

Travis runs his hand over his face. “Shit.”

\---

Wes is in the living room, standing on a kitchen chair and dusting on top of the bookshelves. Travis, who has never even thought of dusting on top of the bookshelves in his life, takes a moment to admire his roommate’s diligence. Then he sighs. Have to get this over with.

“Wes, can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” The blonde pauses, turning to him, dustrag in hand. “What is it?”

“Where were you the night of the full moon?”

A frown crosses the other man’s face. “Why?” But Wes was a lawyer—he can easily draw a conclusion. “You think I did something. Hurt someone.” His frown deepens, gaze roaming Travis’s face, and then he rears back. “Oh my god, you think I _killed_ someone?”

Travis holds out placating hands. “I’m not saying that, Wes. But you’re a new werewolf. You can’t control your transformation. _Especially_ on the full moon. If you somehow got out…”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Then tell me where you were. We’ll sort this out.”

Jaw tight, looking shaky and a little pale, Wes climbs down from the chair.

\---

Wes tells him to go to the city morgue. Once there, he moves with surprising familiarity through the halls, and Travis begins to have a suspicion.

Sure enough, Wes walks right through the morgue into Jonelle’s office.

The brunette is at her desk, and she lights up when Wes walks in. “Hey, Wes!” Then she sees Travis, and her face falls. “Travis.”

“Wait, you know Jonelle?” Travis asks.

Wes ignores him. “He needs to see the room.”

The coroner’s face goes carefully blank, the kind of blandness that hides secrets. “What room?”

Wes rolls his eyes, crosses his eyes. “What room. _My_ room. The one downstairs.”

She frowns, gaze flicking between them, then nods sharply. “Right. Let’s go.”

\---

The room is an empty stone cell, absolutely bare inside. The stones are almost a foot thick, and Travis can’t find a single weak spot. The door is six inches of steel, with the sturdiest locking mechanism Travis has ever seen.

“These tunnels have been down here forever,” Jonelle says from the doorway. “A few years back the Pack bought the tunnels, turned all the rooms into cells. For visiting werewolves, or pack members who don’t have a safe place during the full moon. That sort of thing.”

Travis touches the walls, tracing the deep scratch marks cut in the stone. God, he can’t even imagine… “Wes was here all three nights?”

“Locked him in myself.” Jonelle glances into the hall, where Wes decided to wait, a frown tugging her lips down. “Look, this whole place is wired. Kendall—you remember Kendall—she gets an alarm if there’s a breach. So does the Pack. If Wes had gotten out—if _anyone_ had gotten out—we would have known about it.”

Travis huffs, dropping his hand from the wall. “Then who the hell is killing these people?”

\---

The body of the dead girl doesn’t tell him much. She was killed where she’d been found, partially eaten, and the wounds are clearly that of a werewolf. But there’s no clues to the identity of the wolf.

Travis sighs, thanks Jonelle, and heads outside.

Wes is sitting on the front steps of the building, hugging his knees. He doesn’t look up as Travis sits beside him, staring into the parking lot. “Satisfied I’m not a cold-blood killer now?”

“I had to be sure, Wes.”

The blonde’s shoulders drop. “Yeah, I know.”

Travis shifts. “There have been two murders the past two full moons. A working girl, and a homeless man. You can see why I might have thought of you.” He takes a breath, working through the problem aloud. “But what if there haven’t been two attacks? What if there have been three?”

He can hear the sudden spike in Wes’s heartrate as the blonde makes the connection, but Wes doesn’t say anything. As gently as he can, Travis asks, “What happened that night, Wes?”

Wes exhales, curling in on himself. “It, uh…it wasn’t a good day. My wedding anniversary had just passed, and there was…a lot of stuff happening. So I went out for a drink.” He scratches the back of his neck. “A few drinks. I couldn’t drive, so I decided to walk home.”

“To the hotel?”

That gets Wes to look at him, startled. “How did you…?”

Travis points his thumb at his chest. “Private eye.”

“Right.” Wes looks back at the parking lot. “I was walking by an alley, and I heard a noise. Next thing I knew, this… _thing_ attacked me. Nothing but fur and teeth and pain like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

The blonde hugs himself, gaze distant. “I should have died that night. I don’t know why I didn’t. But I woke up.” He exhales shakily. “Jonelle found me. She lives near where I was attacked. She helped me get cleaned up, explained what had most likely happened. I didn’t believe her, of course.” He gives Travis a sardonic smile. “Werewolves don’t exist, you see. But after a few days I noticed things were different. Sounds, smells, even my vision. So when Jonelle called before the full moon, I went down to the tunnels. If nothing happened…”

“But you changed,” Travis supplies when Wes trails off.

“Yeah.” Wes chuckles sourly. “I changed. Ruined my suit in the process.” He stretches his legs out in front of him. “I met the Pack, but I wasn’t too interested in joining. They tried to convince me, but Randi—she’s the pack leader—” (like Travis doesn’t already know that) “—she said it would just cause infighting or unrest if they tried to force me to stay. She said so long as I behaved and found somewhere safe on full moon nights, I could stay independent. She implied she’d run me out of town if I caused trouble.”

“Yeah,” Travis says cautiously. “Run you out of town. Uh-huh. That’s what they’d do.” Maybe. Depends on what _kind_ of trouble.

Sometimes the people the Pack ‘ran out of town’ never showed up again.

Wes gives him a sideways glance, then looks down at his hands, fingers twisting together. “Jonelle eventually gave me your ad, said you were looking for a roommate.” He pauses. “She didn’t mention the ghost, though.”

“She wouldn’t.” It’s starting to make sense now. A new werewolf wanders into town. Maybe he doesn’t secure himself properly; maybe he just doesn’t care. But he goes out on a rampage, attacks the first person he comes across—Wes. And the next full moon, it’s a homeless man. The third, a prostitute.

Except Wes didn’t die. And no one’s come after him. So…maybe the feral wolf doesn’t know what he did, doesn’t realize he changed his first victim instead of killed him.

“Do you remember where the attack happened?” Travis asks gently.

Wes tips his head back and closes his eyes. “I don’t think I can ever forget.”

\---

Wes. The homeless man. The prostitute. Three attacks—that’s enough data to triangulate.

Travis prints out a map of LA and carefully plots the attacks. Then he draws a circle around the three points.

“You really think the wolf will still be there?” Paekman asks, hovering over his shoulder. “It’s been days since the last full moon, and weeks till the next.”

“Probably not.” Travis traces the circled section of the map. It’s only a few square blocks in the warehouse district. He can search that in a day. “But maybe he left a clue.”

\---

It’s all empty warehouses and abandoned office buildings. Of _course_ it is. Feral werewolves never house up in the suburbs. But he has Paekman, which speeds the search up, since the ghost doesn’t have to bother with doors or walls.

He’s on edge, but it takes a while to realize what’s wrong; there’s no one around. This area, all these big empty buildings, there should be at least a few squatters, but there’s nothing, not a single heartbeat. Even the rats and the pigeons have abandoned this part of the city.

It’s spooky. It’s _wrong_.

It’s like all the prey have gone quiet because they know something bigger and scarier is around.

“I think this is the place,” Travis mutters to himself. There’s something here, something so terrifying and wrong it scared all the local wildlife away.

This is it.

“Come on, Paekman,” Travis murmurs, staring at the building the ghost vanished into. He wants to get out of here, go get Randi, and wash his hands of this. He found the wolf’s hiding place—let the Pack deal with it.

There’s a tiny scuff behind him, and a smell like rotting meat.

Then a wooden stake erupts from his chest.

\---

The only creatures that don’t have heartbeats are the dead.

Ghosts, of course, don’t even have bodies, just a spirit too stubborn to leave. Zombies are empty, mindless eating machines that don’t stop until they’re put down. (Travis went up against a zombie once. It wasn’t pretty. He’s really glad they’re so rare.)

And then there are vampires. Travis’s heart hasn’t beat since that day he was turned, and he doesn’t have any clue how that works, because without a heartbeat he shouldn’t be able to do _anything_ , if he’s remembering high school biology correctly, but here he is. He doesn’t think about it too much. The lack of a heartbeat really only unnerves him when it’s late and he’s thinking heavy thoughts, and that’s not something he tries to do too often.

Werewolves are not dead. Werewolves are _changed_ , but they are unequivocally alive, heartbeat and all.

Travis doesn’t know what the thing in front of him is.

She—at least, he’s pretty sure it’s a she, or used to be—she smells like a werewolf. Sort of, in that not-quite-a-scent that runs over his teeth. It’s the same sort of musky, dark, loamy scent that clings to Wes no matter how many showers he’s had.

But she also smells like rotting meat, like food gone bad and leaves composting on the forest floor where the sun doesn’t reach. And she’s got no heartbeat.

Travis doesn’t know what this thing is, but he doesn’t have to, to know she’s _wrong_.

The creature paces in front of him, muttering to herself. With the stake in his chest, he can’t move an inch, can barely move his eyes to follow her, but he doesn’t want this thing out of his sight longer than a second. It’s _wrong_ , and Travis wants to know where she is every single moment.

He wasn’t lying, when he told Wes a stake in the heart wouldn’t kill him. It just paralyzes him, turns him into a statue that can’t wiggle so much as a finger. After the stake usually comes people with swords and axes and lots of upper body strength.

It’s not the stake that kills a vampire—it’s the beheading that follows.

Except this thing didn’t get chopping. Instead, she dragged Travis to her lair, propped him against the wall, and now…Travis can’t tell what she’s doing. There are a lot of sounds beyond the scope of his vision, but he can’t turn his head to check it out.

_Paekman, where are you?_ Travis wonders. He hasn’t seen the ghost since he was staked. He’s hoping that means Paekman raced off to get the cavalry. The alternative…

No. There’s no way she hurt a _ghost_. So Paekman went to get help, and any minute now they’ll swoop to the rescue. Any…minute…now…

The creature is suddenly there, crouched in front of him. Under the grime and lank hair and crazy eyes, she might have been pretty, once. Now she’s just terrifying and _wrong wrong wrong_ and Travis wants to get as far away as possible.

He can’t, and it _sucks_.

“It will work with you,” she says fervently. “It didn’t work with the others, but you’re different. It will work with you. It _has_ to.”

And then she smiles at him, a crazy, crazy grin, and Travis realizes exactly what’s wrong with her.

She reaches out, pats his cheek almost fondly. “It will work, and we’ll be together _forever_.”

And she smiles again, and vampire fangs flash.

\---

Vampires and werewolves can coexist, can work together side by side and team up and even live together as roommates. It wasn’t always that way, but things are better now, some of the rules have changed.

But some things hadn’t changed, and there’s one thing that has always and will always be forbidden; Vampires and werewolves must never, _ever_ bite one another.

Now Travis knows why.

Travis doesn’t know if she started out as a vampire or a werewolf first, but it doesn’t really matter. Now she’s _both_ , a horrible mix of the two and that simply shouldn’t be possible. It’s _wrong_.

She’s crazy. Maybe the transformation did it, the impossibility of being both vampire and werewolf driving her mad. Maybe it was the loneliness—no way in hell any wolf pack would take her in, and going by Travis’s own reaction to her she wouldn’t be welcome in the vampire clans either.

She’s been alone, and she’s crazy, and now she wants to turn Travis into something like her.

_Paekman_ , Travis thinks desperately, _where are you?_

But the ghost doesn’t appear, the cavalry doesn’t bust down the door, and oh fuck, Travis might be in trouble here.

She plops down in front of him, cross-legged like a little girl, and grins at him. “Don’t worry,” she says. “It will only hurt for a little bit.”

_Pain like nothing I’ve ever felt before,_ Wes had said, and that’s not encouraging at _all_.

(Holy shit, Wes is _so damn lucky_ he just got the werewolf from this chick and not the vamp too.)

She beams at him, fangs flashing. “But then the pain goes away and it’s all okay,” and she says it so earnestly, like making a promise, but that doesn’t make Travis feel better at _all_.

She leans forward, eyes sparking with a dull, reddish-gold color, and then she starts to change. Travis has seen werewolves change before, a few times. It looks torturous, but it’s a fluid transition.

This isn’t fluid at all. She changes in fits and starts, like a poorly-made stop motion, and it makes Travis’s stomach churn. No, no, he doesn’t want to become _that, no_ —!

She leans forward, misshapen jaw open wide—

Off to the left, a door slides open.

\---

Her head whips around, and there’s a moment of stunned silence as she stares at the intruder. Travis dearly wishes he could turn his head and gaze upon his rescuer.

Then Wes says a baffled, “What in the world?” and Travis silently groans.

_Paekman, you were supposed to bring the cavalry, not the baby wolf. How does that help?_

She leaps to her feet, a hunched, vaguely-wolfish thing. (The distant, academic part of Travis wonders if she can’t go full wolf because of the vampire in her. The rest of him decides it doesn’t actually _matter_ right now and shuts the academic part of him up quickly.)

“Mine!” she snarls, barely intelligible through her half-formed muzzle. “You can’t have him!”

“No,” Wes growls— _actually_ growls, a rather wolfish rumble. “ _You_ can’t have him.” And boy, this is just getting better and better, isn’t it?

There’s the sound of ripping cloth and shifting bones, a tremendous snarl of angry rage, and then she’s leaping off towards the door and all he can hear are fighting wolves.

“Travis.” Paekman appears in front of him. Travis has never been happier to see his translucent friend’s face. “Travis, you okay? Sorry, dumb question. What do I do?”

Wes and the wolf-vamp tumble into view, a tangled mess of fur and teeth and claws. There’s a yelp of pain, but Travis can’t tell who made it. And here he is, sitting against the wall, _useless_.

“It’s the stake, right?” Paekman asks. “What do I do? Just yank it out?”

“Yes!” Travis says, or tries to. It comes out as a hiss, a thin, “ ‘sss.”

Paekman understands. “Okay.” He reaches out, grips the end of the stake. “Okay, here goes.” Determined, if a bit nervous, Paekman uses all of his poltergeist abilities to yank the stake out.

It hurts like _hell_ , because hello, _stake_ in his chest. But for the first time in over an hour, Travis can _move_ , and he’s never been happier.

Slowly, he climbs to his feet, clutching the wall for support. “The Pack?” he asks, eyes riveted to the fighting wolves in the corner of the room.

“On their way,” Paekman informs him. “Wes was closer.”

“Okay.” Travis takes a wobbly step from the wall, but he doesn’t fall down. Yay! “I’m gonna need that stake back.”

Paekman darts off, returns, and tucks the stake in Travis’s hand. Travis takes two more shaky steps across the floor. After this, he’s gonna drink like a gallon of blood and sleep for a _week_.

“The next time they spring apart,” Travis tells the ghost, “I need you to do everything you can to hold her still. I only need a second.”

Paekman nods, eyes glued to the wolves. “Got it.”

It doesn’t take long. After just a few moments, the wolf-vamp leaps back with an enraged shriek, glaring at Wes and flexing her claws. That’s when Paekman strikes, disappearing from Travis’s side and appearing across the room, arms wrapped around the wolf-vamp’s neck. The man may be an insubstantial spirit, but when he exerts himself it can be just enough to make all the difference. The wolf-vamp thrashes, but she’s caught fast.

Paekman can’t hold her long, but he doesn’t have to; Travis is there, staggering up and sliding the stake between her ribs. It strikes true, and she’s vampire enough that she seizes up, paralyzed by the wood driven through her heart.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, and he is. She didn’t ask for this. She couldn’t help herself.

But she has to be stopped.

Her eyes meet his, so sad and confused as she slowly topples over.

A low growl sounds behind Travis. He sighs and turns—which is exactly too much, as the world spins beneath him and he crumples to the ground. Shit. He needs blood, to seal up the gaping hole in his chest, needs at least two days to fully recuperate. But there’s nothing to drink here, and if he closes his eyes he’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out completely, so…

The wolf pads into view, looking down at him with bright gold eyes. Wes is a pretty wolf, Travis thinks muzzily, sort of a dusky tan with a white nose and belly. Even marred by blood bites and chunks of torn-out fur, Wes is a very nice-looking wolf.

A nice-looking baby werewolf who can’t control himself yet, who’s got no sense of _Wes_ in that wolf body. If he gets out…

“Please don’t run away,” Travis mumbles, watching the wolf. “I really can’t chase you right now.”

Wes blinks, tilts his head, and Travis is almost certain the wolf is going to run and run and never look back.

But then the wolf turns in a circle and lays down, tucked up against Travis’s side, a solid warmth. Travis can hear his heart beating, a steady, reassuring _thump, thump, thump._

_Okay then_ , Travis thinks, and closes his eyes.

\---

The cavalry finally arrives, four members of the Pack with Randi leading the way. Three of them surround the wolf-vamp, one leads Wes to the corner to talk him back to human, and Randi sits him up and shoves a blood bag into his hands. Travis happily sinks his teeth in, sucking voraciously.

The three pack members are restraining the wolf-vamp, preparing to move her. “What’s going to happen to her?” he asks around a mouthful of plastic and blood.

Randi’s silence lasts long enough Travis can guess, and—it makes sense, he supposes, because she shouldn’t have ever been made in the first place. Doesn’t mean he has to _like_ it.

“We’ll take care of it,” Randi says, hand curling around his neck, and Travis closes his eyes and drinks his blood and wishes he felt better about letting her people take over.

There’s a long silence, and then Randi pats his shoulder. “I was worried when Wes wouldn’t join the Pack,” she says, looking over at the far corner of the warehouse. Travis does _not_ look—he’s seen enough wolves mid-transition, and fluid as the transformation may be, it’s not _pretty_. He doesn’t need to spoil his appetite.

“I felt a little better when Jonelle said he’d started rooming with you, but still. I was worried. Lone wolves don’t always do well.”

Yeah. Travis had been worried about that too. He makes a vague sound, sucking sadly at the depleted blood bag.

Randi gently shoves another bag into his hands. Gotta love a woman who comes prepared.

Just as he’s sinking his teeth in the second bag, she gives his shoulder another pat, and says, “Glad he found a pack of his own.” Then she rises and heads to the corner to help Wes finish changing.

It takes a few minutes for Travis to get what she’s saying, and he chokes on a mouthful of blood.

Wes eventually wanders over from the corner a little while later, on two legs instead of four, dressed in a borrowed shirt and sweatpants. His feet are bare. He looks kind of shocky, like he’s been punched in the mouth a few times, but that’s better than Travis feels. Travis gratefully accepts his roommate’s hand and _doesn’t_ think too hard about what Randi was implying just a few minutes ago.

“Sorry I thought you were a murdering people without realizing it,” Travis tells his roommate earnestly.

Wes huffs a little laugh through his nose, slinging Travis’s arm over his shoulder. “Considering the hole in your chest I forgive you. I won’t go so easy on you next time.”

“Duly noted.” Travis gives the blonde a giddy grin. “You totally saved my life back there,” he notes, leaning on Wes a little more heavily that he strictly intended to. Wes doesn’t mention it.

“I kind of did,” Wes agrees, which makes Travis snort.

“When are you gonna come work for me?” he asks brightly, smiling sunnily at Wes. “With me?” he amends at Wes’s annoyed glower.

The blonde rolls his eyes, but he says, “I’ll think about it,” which isn’t exactly a no so Travis takes it.

Paekman pops up on Travis’s other side, and he may be incorporeal but it’s still a kind of support, and Travis totally can’t wait until Wes gives in—which he will because he’s got no job right now and being a PI is _awesome_ —because then it’ll be Travis and Wes and Paekman, the three Musketeers solving crime.

“I like you guys,” he announces brightly, squeezing Wes’s shoulder and, for lack of a better option, waving his hand through Paekman’s ribs. “I think I’ll keep you.”

(And it’s the wound and blood loss making him a little loopy, but he kind of means it too.)

Paekman laughs, and Wes snorts indelicately, shifting Travis on his shoulder. “Come on,” he says, “Let’s go home.”

That’s the best idea he’s heard all day.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote is from the pilot episode of Being Human, a sci-fi series about a vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost living together. However, I can’t remember if the quote is from the American or British version of the show.
> 
> This fic came about because I’d written one where Wes was a vampire and Travis was a werewolf, and I wanted to shift it about. I threw Paekman in there because I like him, and I wish we’d had more of him in the series. And then it became this weird Being Human AU that’s not really an AU because I only ever watched like two episodes of that show, truth be told.


End file.
